


Begin with Temerity

by SassafrassRex (Serbajean)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Graphic Violence, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro Week 2016, Team Bonding, can't have steampunk without drama, ethical decay and moral bankrupcy, i've owned pitbulls and they deserve better than to be besmirched in my summary, indulgence, semi-gangster but more civic unrest and upheaval~~not that there's much difference, semi-steampunk AU, seriously, so much drama, the whole team's there but still pretty Shiro-centric, very little actual dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serbajean/pseuds/SassafrassRex
Summary: "If anyone causes one of these little ones... to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be cast into the sea."Mathew 18:6(He will have so much to answer for)ORHibernating somewhere in the contemporary awareness, there is a picture of a man in a suit. Tall, handsome, wearing nice gloves and exceedingly nice shoes. Lazily holding the leashes of a pair of pitbulls.In their heads, people know this picture. Someone of easy indolence (no, he's out to take an empire). Just caught in repose with his dogs (he's brought four pitbulls, not two).Shiro Week 2016Day 7: AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> Didn’t wind up posting my Black Lion piece because its parent hc is not a popular one, and I didn’t want to invite debate.  
> Then was halfway done with my vacation piece, when the fucking WORLD briefly ended (in a storm of rl shit).  
> So (feeling quite THWARTED in my Shiro Week aspirations), sat down last night to finish my AU piece...  
> I went bananas! Squashed, spoiled, indulgent bananas!

 

 

The sky burns loudly. It rains fire on their heads, but what Allura really can’t stand is the noise. She’s screaming with it, running from one dubious point of shelter to the next. A building explodes outward in flames, close enough that the shock sends her sprawling. Her hands grip tight and she springs back up to her feet, dragging Lance along with her.

They run until they find a ditch. What it used to be, neither knows nor wants to think about. But they huddle down in knee-deep stinking water and hold onto each other. Above them, the blitzing continues and the sky keeps screaming.

* * *

Emperor Zarkon watches the spread of a malignancy.

At the beginning, it was a man at the head of one corner of the universe. A nation smaller than Zarkon’s own, but powerful just the same. With resources, and enough of a military to give pause.

An ally, not a peon. Partner, not subject.

For many years, a steady source of trade. Until Zarkon found reason to worry. He sought to have the Head of House removed. The man was growing his holdings in a manner that Zarkon suspected he was not intended to notice.

Yes, have him removed.

However, through a great deal of cajoling, reasoning, and _whimsy,_ plans received a last-minute alteration. What would have been an assassination morphed itself into an abduction. Zarkon gave him to Haggar. She's the most effective individual in his employ and he does so love to see her smile.

Having no interest in ransoming, Zarkon began to systematically cut off the heads of the House Shirogane, so none would step into the vacuum and oppose him in place of their brother. He began to move on those lands that he’d wanted. Revisiting trade agreements. Rewriting them, in the midst of his offers of aid and friendship in these oh so trying times.

Until he made a mistake. The tiniest mistake, he can remember the very evening he made it. He called Haggar and assigned her to assist in quelling some no-point rebellion on some no-name planet. In retrospect, nothing at all. Nothing he had needed to insist upon. She hadn’t wanted to go, but he’d made her do it. Foolish of him and he regrets it still.

Her Champion disappeared.

Now Zarkon fights a war in earnest. Watches his own men fall and his own lands fly a flag that belongs to someone else. Watches chaos steal over cities, and insurgents spring up as though out of the ground.

Zarkon brought this on himself, he knows. Shirogane has decided he wants the whole universe.

* * *

Keith spits in the eye of the man dragging him and gets soundly smacked across the face for his trouble. He can’t pry his hands loose but that doesn’t keep him from tugging. What he’s even doing here, he doesn’t know. Two days ago he’d been at home, or as much of one as he’d eked out for himself.

Now he’s being hauled across base by men in silver, wearing a crest that Keith knows (knows to run from) but never expected to meet up close.

But someone new has bought him. Ahem, has _sponsored_ him (patronized? Adopted? Whatever the latest term is). Someone from up past the hill, in the capital.

Keith doesn’t let up his squirming as he’s dragged towards a group of men, standing with their backs to him. Two Galra soldiers—captives—are kneeling in front of these men. Being interrogated, presumably. But from the dumb looks on their faces, they either plan to hold out forever, or they don’t have anything else worth giving up.

One of the men is looking rather incongruous in a dark suit, and Keith can just see the edge of his profile. Keith blinks and looks closer. He recognizes him, he saw that man only a week ago. It had been dark out, Keith had taken a bad hit that knocked him right across the ground, rolling until his head made painful connection with the base of a low wall. When he'd squinted his eyes open he'd seen a face above him, staring upside-down. A man, leaning over the wall, with his hands folded. Just standing there, peering down at Keith; a face framed by the night's stars.

Keith hadn’t had a chance to do much with this information, because other hands had hauled him up to his feet and shoved him back into the ring.

The last thing he expected was for the guy to go ahead and buy him! But that’s the same face, sure enough. Right side-up, and now a good deal less blurry, it’s the same face.

The men address him as “Shirogane.” And “Sir.” And Keith’s eyes grow in his head.

Shirogane (and not just any, but the Head of House; one of the last) glances over his shoulder for a second. He quirks a bit of a smile when he sees Keith, and smoothly turns back, reaching over to the man next to him.

Before Keith knows what’s happening, he hears a gun go off twice.

Both Galra captives tip over onto the ground. A pair of unstrung marionettes, and Shirogane returns his man’s sidearm. He turns around to face Keith fully, and he smiles. Welcomes him, like it was Keith’s choice to be here, and dismisses Keith’s two guards..

Keith wants to run away. But he has a very real suspicion that he’ll be shot if he tries.

They are both transported up to the city. From there, they go to the estate where Keith will be living now. Shirogane rides slowly ahead and Keith gets to walk.

* * *

More than once, the Galra have pushed their way dangerously close to the gates of his city. They are dug in, all throughout his territories. _Well_ dug in, like vermin in a home. They manifest themselves without warning, to threaten the very heart of it.

More than once, Shirogane's own people have banged on his doors, seeking shelter from an encroaching horde.

But never has the city been breached. The closest they ever came, he hopped into a fighter himself and went up to stop them. He chewed through enemy forces, right alongside his men.

Then (to the audible shock of many) he abandoned his city and sped off towards another. Slipped right past the enemy and left to do something terrible (something he shouldn’t have had the power to do). His jaw set, Shirogane Takashi launched a weapon he shouldn’t have had and watched Galra citizens shrivel and disappear. Countless gone, inside of a second. One of his first war crimes.

The Galra attack retreated.

He stands on one of his townhouse's many balconies, enjoying the breeze that announces the end of summer. His lands are beautiful. His cities, his raucous capital, are beautiful. He won’t let anyone come so close ever again.

He glances down and sees a woman staring up towards him. He notes her eyes. Strikingly beautiful, enough so to be seen, even from high above. Opals, he thinks. Like a pair of opals. Upon meeting his gaze, she hastily turns and keeps walking on her way. Though she leaves, he feels the eyes on him of every person inside these walls. And many more beyond.

He feels Zarkon watching him from half a universe away. Zarkon, who has been stepping on cities and peoples like his for quite long enough.

* * *

Pidge keeps an ear open. If she’s found out, then that’s the end.

She hears footsteps. Coming down the hallway, getting louder. She kills her tiny light and dives down behind a low partition.

Footsteps pass by, along with deep voices, laughing over something frivolous. She doesn’t bother getting up off the floor, just continues. Twice more she is nearly caught, before she can fold up her work and get the hell out.

She’s still a little too close when the whole structure blows. Honestly, that part is much more Hunk's _forte_  than hers _._ The shockwave sends her sprawling, along with her bike. Thinking of Hunk, he won’t like having to help her fix it _again._

* * *

A fleet of ships goes out to hunt the Galra. Dark, sharp-edged things, many of them built on designs stolen from Zarkon’s own artificers (one more thing their prodigal prisoner took with him). A living, moving fortification, expanding outward, in the service of home and country.

The man behind all of this stands onboard his own cruiser, the _Lion._ Just off his shoulder, stood straight and firm is the traitor, Sendak. Who hates the empire more than anyone understands. Hates it enough that he abandoned it and went searching. Now, Shirogane Takashi keeps him very, very close at hand. Sendak is tall and unyielding; wears the same crest as every other officer in the army.

Quite unlike every other officer, Sendak is rarely ever seen further than a few feet away from Shirogane himself. And Sendak can say a great deal about him. Sendak has never seen him tired. Or never seen him not tired. Never seen him falter. Sendak can say there is a scar across his face (a badge of a kind). There are also dark gray-purple lines, reaching up the right side of his neck and curling up around the edge of his eye.

If asked, Sendak could carefully detail their slow disease progression and then remission and then progression again.

There are many other things Sendak can say. He can say he has a goal. Something that he wants very, _terribly_ much, and he can say that this man will see it done.

Shirogane rests both gloved hands on a display in front of him. Assesses, until his his enemy has told him all he needs to know. Determines a heading, and quietly calls, “Advance.”

The whole of the sky moves forward.

* * *

His empire is corrupt. Zarkon knows this. So heavy it has begun to suffocate under its own weight. Yet it is lofty and high-minded as well. Existence was dark before the Galra. Divided, lawless, before the empire—the greatest force the universe has ever seen and he will _not_ abandon it, though malignancy grows and spreads.

Shirogane Takashi is a man with many allies. They spring up all over Zarkon’s territories. Insurgent movements to plague him.

And more powerful friends as well. Other houses, other nations, who've suddenly seen a different dog they would like to back. They turn on Zarkon and lend their weight to an alternative axis of powers. _Traitors,_ Zarkon calls them, though they were never his people to begin with.

Shirogane, a man Zarkon had hoped to overpower years ago, has declared war on him and that war has _dragged_. Zarkon’s allies seem to vanish, as Shirogane’s only grow.

Cancer gains the upper hand in the end.

* * *

 

\-----()-----

 

* * *

Keith reverses his grip. Snaps a blade forward, to split its way out of a man’s neck. Always moving, his other finds its way up underneath a different man’s ribs.

Shiro’s the one who wants the whole universe. Keith just wants to help him. Since Shiro first bought him, he’s always kept Keith very close.

It’s never been bad, living with him. There are allowances Keith had forgotten he'd missed. Keith gets to sleep every single night. Mind, not always a full night. Still, he does get to. He's fed better than he had ever been in his life. He gets to play the violin when he wants to (he hadn’t been permitted to do that in _years_ ). Shiro even sits nearby and listens, with a drink or a book in hand and sometimes smiling.

There had been one particular evening. Shiro was in something of a mood (it made Keith nervous). And when Keith played, Shiro looked at him strangely. Very strangely, as though noticing something for the first time. The next morning, Keith woke up with his head shoved into a bucket of water.

Keith’s a bit messy on a strike, and one guy’s intestines slide down onto the floor. Slippery, he’ll have to watch where he steps.

Shiro held his head down until Keith nearly passed out. He pulled him up long enough for Keith to suck in a breath that was some air but mostly water. Then it was back in. That was the beginning of all this.

Shiro made him fight. Made him work, made him learn. Took apart all the bad habits and in some ways, taught him almost from the ground up. Broke Keith into tiny pieces more than once.

Keith opens a man’s throat from ear to ear.

Keith’s gotten good at this. Better than he ever thought he could be, but Shiro’s the one who taught him. He might actually be better than even Shiro expected.

Only one left. Coming up behind him, thinking he has Keith dead to rights.

He turns, blocks, and strikes fast enough that both blades take the man straight through the torso. Feeling just a little whimsical, Keith flexes both shoulders and lets momentum carry the other right up above his head. Looking confused, with eyes already dimming, the man hangs up there, just long enough for blood to drip out of his mouth and land on Keith’s face. Then his eyes lose focus, and Keith hauls back, slicing him nearly in half and stepping out of the way as the remains fall to the floor.

He can feel Shiro’s eyes on the back of his head. Keith listens, in case there’s anything else he might need.

Shiro’s the firestarter. Quite honestly, Keith is just here to help him kill people.

* * *

When Lance darted out of an alleyway into the street and ran headfirst into a stomping destrier, he thought himself doomed. Sitting in the dirt, with the sun shining in his eyes and the augmented beast snorting in his face, he figured he’d gone and irritated someone with clout. Likely enough clout to kill him without raising any questions.

There were a lot of people who could do that to someone like Lance. Very few would ever notice if he vanished.

But the man above him barely looked at him twice. He reined his mount in and just walked on. Following him, there was a boy with purple eyes and bound hands.

Lance didn’t stop to ponder his good luck. He got up and ran home to Allura as fast as he could.

More than once after that, he felt eyes on the back of his head. On two separate occasions, he caught a glimpse of that same guy, but always just as he was turning and leaving.

Some time later, when Lance swung round a corner with three people all hot on his heels, he wasn’t pondering that. Or pondering anything at all, besides getting away from his pursuers. He'd been running so long, he thought his lungs would bleed, when he heard a pistol go off three times. Chancing a look behind him, Lance skidded to a stop, nearly losing his footing. He saw them, all dead on the ground. And there was that guy again. Tall, dark suit, weird scars. Same guy.

Lance huffed, breath rushing fast, in and out, as he tried to glean some sense from this new development. Stepping closer, he looked down at his feet, where he saw blood, brain matter, and a spill of long shiny black hair, all leading back to the head of the woman who'd wanted to kill him. Two men lay a few feet from her, her partners. Headshots, all three of them. _Not bad,_ he noted, somewhere in the back of his mind.

Chest still heaving, he looked up at the stranger again, and he couldn't think of a single thing to say. The man tossed something into the air. It sparkled when catching the light and, quite without thinking, Lance caught the pistol in both hands. He recognized the make. Clean lines, well fit together; it was beautiful. 

When he looked up, the man was walking off, letting Lance stay or follow as he liked.

The man’s name is Shirogane Takashi. He teaches him those things that Lance hasn’t been able to pick up on his own. Corrects the little flaws in his technique, and gives him a place to practice.

He even points him toward deserving people, to practice _on._ He says Lance is the best shot he’s ever seen.

So he keeps giving him people.

Allura yells at Lance on the day he walks out, but Lance keeps walking. Allura understands, he knows she does. After all, she has her own job to do, Zarkon’s witch is earmarked for her.

He knows she never wanted this sort of work for him, but here it is.

Shiro’s the wavemaker. Lance is just here because even wavemakers need trigger pullers.

* * *

Her father’s gone. Her brother’s gone. Both lost on a mission they shouldn’t have had to take, and _wouldn’t_ have had to if the Galra Empire didn’t exist. Her mother's gone too, not long after they disappeared (no 'broken heart’ to blame, just plain non-small cell carcinoma, catching up to a lifelong smoker). If Pidge didn’t have Hunk and Lance, she doesn’t know what she would have done.

Pidge is out and about when shelling starts. Nothing lands in the city (yet). But fear brings out the ugly side of the citizenry.

Pidge finds herself cornered by two huge men who want her backpack. Who want more than her backpack.

She hears thunder. Hears it building, and she turns in time to see it come galloping round a corner. Steel-sharpened hooves flail at the two. One flees, but the other lands on his back, with a hoof stomped through his abdomen. She doesn’t watch the splash. His partner has vanished.

A hand reaches down, closes just above the elbow. One blink later, she is in a saddle, sprinting for the edge of town. He has someplace to be. No time to get her home, he’ll just bring her along. It's not safe to stay around here.

Pidge bounces and holds, dirty knuckles going white. Never in a hundred years would she imagine herself on one of these things. It feels less aristocratic than it looked, she didn't know the ride was so bumpy. His arms bracket her, solid pressure along the outside of her shoulders, so she doesn't slip off. The three of them burst through the city gates and she watches his hands loosen on the reins. Engines in the animal suddenly kick on. The air wavers as a force field settles into place. Pidge has time to draw in a single breath, before the beast is running faster faster faster _louder_ and her whole body plasters itself to the man behind her.

Landscape flashes by, too quick to appreciate. Up above, the sky’s gone dark, enemy fighters streaming towards the city, crushing their own aerial defenses.

She sees a bay up ahead, where a single fighter is parked. There are others, closer to the city, she doesn’t know why he needed to come out and get _this_  one. 

They're there in seconds. The destrier skids to a stop outside. Its owner nimbly hops down to the ground. One hand pats its arching neck, the other alights atop Pidge's knee. He promises it will deliver her safely home, all she need do is give it some coordinates. It'll protect her, _don’t worry_.

Then he's gone. She and the clever beast both crane their heads up, to watch the fighter disappear into the sky.

He chews a hole in the enemy that day. Then he zips off to the nearest Galra city and does… oh, but Pidge doesn’t know just what that weapon is. Whatever he'd packed on that fighter, she has no idea where it came from.

(Do they have more of that? Does Zarkon have it? Why is the war still even going? There are things in life Pidge doesn’t yet know, but she thinks it ought to be _over_ already. If they can do _that_.)

Distress calls must come fast. All at once, the remainder of the Galra peel off from their attack and rush homeward. 

In one afternoon, Pidge doesn’t know how many he kills to keep the Gala away. But history will call that day important.

He tracks her down a day later. From the other side of her door (opened just a few cautious inches) Pidge learns he hadn’t come across her _quite_ by accident. In consideration for what he did, she opens up and comes outside, carrying with her her home's only chair. She won't let him inside, but she has manners enough not to make him stand while he says his piece.

Lance, it turns out, had put in a good word for her. Had talked up the talent she offers, and this man had listened. Right then and there, Pidge's guest places a computer in her hands. And he bids her show him something ambitious.

This man is searching for all the help he can find. And given the look on his face when Pidge hands the little computer back, she thinks she's impressed him.

That evening, Lance talks and talks about him, like he hung the moons and painted the stars.

A boy with purple eyes and a soft smile tells her that they would be _really_ happy, to have her along.

She tells Shirogane to give Hunk a call, before she finally shakes the hand he offers. Lance throws an arm around her shoulders, and Keith and Shiro are all gentle smiles like she’ll learn to love.

Here come the winds of change, with Shiro out in front. Pidge is just here for her family.

* * *

Hunk worries. And hates.

He didn’t always live in the capital. His home was well outside of it, in a town hit much, much earlier.

Hunk knows what it looks like when a person’s blown off his feet. The skin splits all the way around both legs. Flesh rides up the same way a sleeve does and Hunk can see the completely exposed bones of both clean shins. That’s the legs anyway, the individual above them has been pulped.

Hunk knows the way a body curls over like it’s fighting, when exposed to high enough heat. He knows the way bones expand then fracture, and how loops of intestine burst through skin.

Hunk worries. And hates.

He moves into the city. Meets a little girl with nowhere to go. Befriends a boy and his guardian, who wish they could offer Hunk a permanent place to stay but he understands. Too many people together attract trouble. He can take care of himself, he’s grateful just to have them as his best friends.

Pidge, he holds onto though.

Time passes. A little girl grows to a young woman, while Hunk just gets _older_. He remembers he's only a few years past her, no matter how tired he is in the mornings.

He can fix just about anything. He gets a bike working for Pidge, so she can get around town like she wants. On one of the bloodiest days of the war, she comes home, with no bike in sight. Instead she's sitting astride one of those augmented mounts that the well-to-do (the _best_ -to-do) all tend to favor. Jaw on the ground, Hunk huffs a laugh, and figures he’s in for a damn good explanation.

Shit, the thing’s taller than he is. Pidge looks ridiculous sitting on top of it. She’s an adult now, or he thinks she is, though he doesn't know her exact birthdate. And she's grown a lot since he met her, but she’ll never be _tall_ (never quite enough to eat). She's still plenty small enough to look ridiculous.

(Hunk always takes care of her as well as can be managed, though he could never fix her right. Or Lance. Or Allura, even. Or himself. Of course he’s aware of this and wouldn't ever try. He just does what he can.)

Hunk gets a call one day. Some guy he doesn’t know, tells him about a quiet enemy supply route that’s been found to dip near to one of the cities. Nearer than it should have, if the Galra were being smart. Hunk takes a short train ride to that town, then starts walking. He finds the place. He waits there for them, and then he blows it all to hell and gone, along with all the people using it. He isn’t sure how it ever even got to be there, but it’s all gone now.

He gets another call, telling him about a Galra official who will be passing through, only twelve hours out from that moment. It’s a near thing. A very near thing, but Hunk leaves him in a burning wreck on the road.

He’ll do whatever he can to help. Rather than waiting around for another call, he follows Pidge the next time she heads out.

He meets two men. One with really sad eyes but with a smile that seems almost real. Lance is hangs off, laughing with the mad kind of grin Hunk hardly ever gets to see.

The other one speaks quietly. With words that land heavy, for all their gentleness. Hunk decides this is one of the kindest people he’s ever come across.

Shirogane Takashi asks Hunk what he’s willing to do. How far he’s willing to hurt, in service of ridding this place of the Galra. Shiro answers questions Hunk didn’t even know to ask. Teaches. Warns him ultimately, about what Hunk might turn into along this road.

Hunk isn’t bothered; they’ll build higher with him onboard.

Shiro’s the earthshaker. Hunk is here because he believes in what Shiro’s doing.

* * *

Haggar watches her master bow his head over casualty reports. Watches armies slowly, slowly dwindle. She watches and rages, knowing the fault is hers.

Her fault, and therefore it is hers to right. After so much (too much) searching, she tracks Shirogane down. Waits until he’s alone, knowing she’ll have only one chance. 

She steps out of thin air, right behind him. But she hesitates. She shouldn't, but she watches while he plays at strategy with her master from thousands of miles apart. Her appearance stirred neither a breeze nor a sound. Even so, he lifts his head. A muscle in his back twitches.

She doesn’t wait any longer, but lunges right at him. He turns quick and she goes for his eyes. She’ll dig them right out, drag him back to her master weeping red, the only way he’ll have left—

But he's a hair too fast. She turns and goes for his side instead; scores lines there, painting over others she gave him years ago. Her own power leaps to him, but she doesn’t know whether it’s enough to drag him down.

She doesn’t find out. He’s faster than she remembers, she shouldn’t have toyed. Somehow, he catches hold of her and jams the muzzle of a pistol right into her eye socket. The sound and the feeling of something rupturing.

Haggar vanishes before he pulls the trigger. She materializes far from him, clutching astounded hands to her own face.

She tries again, not even a day later, but she is barred. Some fool of a girl with white hair and opal eyes stands in her path, weaving a wall. He is warded so tightly that Haggar cannot step anywhere near him. She throws herself into combating this until her emperor pulls her aside. He warns her against doing what she’d done. Warns her that he needs her with him. He can’t ever lose her.

Gently, hesitantly, Emperor Zarkon takes her face in both his hands. He tells her to let go of Shirogane, promises to kill him since she can’t anymore. He will do this, he must do this, but he cannot lose her.

She can’t help but to promise.

Zarkon is the force holding the universe aloft. Haggar is here because she loves him.

* * *

 

\-----()-----

 

* * *

Countless figures in shining armor. Ships, automatons, weapons of war. Men as far as her eyes can see, all slowly closing in on the imperial capital.

Gunfire, ion cannon, screaming, whistling, all slice the air around her. Haggar stands amidst flagging allies; a slowly failing bulwark, giving way to an inexorable tide of silver. More men than she can count.

And each of them baring the same crest. The same ugly mess of lines that means “Shirogane” in his language. The remnants of his army, and still too many. Still far beyond what her master can gather to defend his city.

That is why she's here. That is why Zarkon keeps Haggar at hand.

With something that is both grimace and true smile, she points one hand towards the ground and sets lightning to crackling around her feet. Scrapes it along the soil, gathering together all the power she can draw up. She reaches to the sky and calls it down to aid her.

More men than she can count. Shining silver, bearing down on her home and her master and all that she loves.

Hagger gives of herself and men die in droves.

 

There is a piercing shriek that splits the air, higher even than the wind and the whistling.

Allura snaps her head up. She’s been searching for Haggar.

* * *

Zarkon’s capital city is empty. Her roads are silent, all her citizens locked up with their families. Waiting for the army to advance and the end to come. The clanking and roaring are distant still, but none believe that will last.

Three men march through the empty streets, wide open, without a care.

A tall man in black, flanked by two others. One bristling with blades of every kind. The other with a rifle slung easy-going over his shoulder.

No caution at all. Walking as though the city were already theirs.

People peer out of windows and over fences to watch them. They stick their heads out, looking closer, only to duck back inside when they hear the noise of a round striking too close. It is chaos in this war. Chaos in this country, upheaval on this planet.

Every one of them recognizes the tall man in black. They know the other two. Paladins, he’s called them, these men who walk as though every step breaks the back of another foe.

They walk straight up to the palace, the capitol of the entire empire. Not harassed by anyone. Where are the guards? They should have been _stopped_ but there aren’t any guards anywhere. People crane their necks to see. Two others come out to meet them at the foot of the imperial palace steps. The people recognize them as well. One tall and broad-shouldered, the other dwarfed in his shadow.

Without stopping, the three men climb the stairs and the other two fall in line with them.

When all five disappear into the palace, people pull their heads back inside and lock their homes up tight.

* * *

Far away, Allura digs in her feet and leans into the wind. She hears the whistling and the shock, far too close. All around her, men and women lay with necks twisted and heads facing the wrong way. All of those caught off guard by magic they weren’t equipped to fight. Up ahead stands the woman responsible, wrapped in a storm.

Allura tightens her grip on both her daggers. Mouth twisted into a snarl, she sets them to sparking.

With eyes flashing, Haggar turns to face her.

 

Before too much longer, the noise falls away to silence.

* * *

“Shirogane, I find us at a loss.” Emperor Zarkon stands across from his uninvited guest. This deep into the palace, he can’t hear any sounds from outside.

“A loss?” Shirogane quirks an eyebrow and sips quietly from his glass (another indulgence he'd not been offered). Absently, he adjusts something at his wrist. Or he might, though it is too dark to be certain.

Zarkon smirks, but it is rueful. “You should not have managed this. I could never have predicted how badly you wanted it.”

Shirogane, apparently satisfied with his cuff, leaves it alone. His suit blurs his outline in the dark while lamplight reflects off the crystal in his hand. “It’s the only way I ever want things.”

Yes, Zarkon can see that. Rapacity may be this man’s finest quality.

“In any case, you said a _loss_?”

Zarkon hears a quiet tapping. He rests both hands on the head of his cane, and his spine remains straight. “You have surprised me. You have wreaked havoc in my lands. Whittled away at me and mine. But I have taken notice of you. I know your resources are now just as dry.”

He can’t say he’s terribly surprised that his guards are nowhere to be found. Disappointed, but little more. He has a pistol in his desk. He has the blade inside his cane. More of them, about the room.

He notices the tapping again. Shirogane, he realizes. Drumming one finger, as though keeping time (drumming with the hand Haggar _gave_  to him. So much of this could have been avoided).

Shirogane tilts his head. “What does your council think of your treating with me?”

The insolence leaves a familiar bad taste in Zarkon’s mouth.

“Haven’t they any say?” Briefly, Shirogane ceases his count to produce a small communicator. He holds it towards Zarkon.

Zarkon stares carefully. Too obvious a bluff. Yet, feeling quite cold, Zarkon presses his own instead, and sends out a wave of requests.

He does not like the quiet, though it is to be expected this deep into the palace. Noise would be preferable, to drown out that tapping. Zarkon retreated here when the power went. It had been strange to find that even this particular room was dark as well, but there was little to be done for it.

He had been at his desk when Shirogane let himself in and began to avail himself of Zarkon's liquor. Zarkon had been working by his own lamp, but the rest of the lights are still out.

The power went only several minutes before Shirogane arrived.

Zarkon waits but no one answers his calls. He contacts others. No answer. Somehow, once again, he is sadly less than surprised.

He raises dangerous eyes to Shirogane, whose placid face moves not an inch.

“Shirogane, what is this?” Is this what it all comes down to?

The man takes two steps forward, and Zarkon hears a faint shuffling noise follow him. But it’s too dark.

“This particular moment? Right now?” Shirogane keeps tapping away. “On my species’ home planet, this is a humble _coup d’état_.”

“Meaning?”

The count ceases, and Shirogane finally smiles. Pleasantly, but it’s an ugly sight. “Don’t concern yourself.”

The lights return. At his back, there are four leering faces. Teeth shining, bloodied already.

Zarkon’s mind churns, but he knows himself lost.

The usurper raises his glass and his paladins come sweeping forward.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Seemed like a good idea last night...
> 
> Funny thing: Everybody knows ‘Winds of change’ of course. But firestarter, wavemaker, and earthshaker all mean pretty much the exact same thing, in the context of politics... And voila, fic inspiration!
> 
> Also, come enjoy the space dorks and laugh at/with/at me on [Tumblr.](http://sassafrassrex.tumblr.com/)


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